


Letters to Stevia

by CrunchyPickles



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drag Queens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyPickles/pseuds/CrunchyPickles
Summary: Don Gibbins is a drag queen who has been singled out and sent threatening letters by an unknown offender. It's up to Sherlock Holmes to catch the perpetrator, but John needlessly involves himself then placed in an awkward predicament.





	Letters to Stevia

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know very much of drag culture besides what I see in youtube videos and a movie called Kinky Boots.

It was well into the afternoon, by any standards this was a slow day for clients- more rather, interesting clients. So far Sherlock and John met with 5 people with very, very uninteresting situations, three of them Sherlock was able to solve with a once-over.

John was on the verge of pacing, if nothing intriguing came in he would be stuck with a moody flamate for the rest of the weekend. The doctor sat in his chair, grinding the tips of his fingers against the armrest, absently looking at the other man’s shoes. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, leaning into his palm, index finger tapping his cheekbone while he held his phone, browsing news sites, but barely present mentally. There was a gentle knock at the door frame and John practically jumped up.

“Hello?” Said the stranger, not entering the flat just yet, John went to meet them, clearing his throat.

“Hello. Have you come for our services?” John asked with a friendly smile. 

“Yes.”

“Wonderful, come sit down.” The doctor directed, leading them to the chair. Sherlock was taken out his reverie, setting his phone down to look at their would-be client, “And what’s your name?” John asked as he got his notepad out.

“Uh, Don Gibbins.” He answered, Don was a rather thin young man, nothing in particular stood out from his short, dirty blond hair, fair skin and neatly worn clothes and a messenger bag under his arm. At least in John’s eyes.

“So how may we help you, Mr. Gibbins?” John asked, ready to scribble his notes, Sherlock’s arm flopped down with his phone, taking a look at Don.

“Don. Well, I hope you wouldn’t be judgemental, but-”

“He’s being harrassed, likely because he’s a drag queen.” Sherlock explained as he sat up with interest.

“What? How did you-”

“Your skin and nails are quite meticulously taken care of, likely because you apply makeup and nail polish on a regular basis, despite the fact you’re a customer service representative. Two years.” Sherlock answered before the question could be asked, John set his pen aside, grinning as he realized they had a case on their hands. 

“Oh.” Don said as he looked down to his manicured nails and smiled with relief, “Thank you.” He said, turning to the detective. “I’ve been getting harassing notes, they’re being left on the vanity at the bar I work at. Only mine.” He explained, taking his messenger bag and pulled out the notes. Sherlock practically swiped them out of his hand excitedly. It was in printed letter, spelling and grammar was fine besides the use of slurs. “I wanted to go to the police, but I’m afraid I don’t have any suspects in mind. It’s been directed at me specifically and no one else.” Don explained, feeling rather silly. Sherlock read the notes again then passed them to John. “We’ve had patrols near the block but they don’t see anything unusual.”

“They seem to be a reference to your lifestyle than your sexuality.” John noted.

“I don’t understand, most of my friends and family- even my coworkers are aware of my sexuality.” Don explained, his hands pinching at the strap of the bag.

“So you want us to find out who your harasser is so you can report them?” Sherlock asked, putting his phone in his pocket.

“That would be ideal.” Don smiled, John got his notepad again, making some notes to write in his blog.

“We’ll start by going to the scene of the crime: the bar.” Sherlock said as he stood up, John looked to him with surprise.

“Are we going now?” He asked, looking at the time, Don stood up as well.

“I think the manager will be there by the time we get there.” The younger man said, rather relieved.

\-----

The trio was met with the manager, they piled up in the change room of the bar, the walls were lined with well lit vanities. Sherlock inspected each one, John stood with his arms crossed, half smiling as he watched the detective, trying not to look so proud. The doctor cleared his throat, turning to the manager.

“Must have one heck of a power bill.” John commented idly.

“Tell me about it.” Said the manager, watching Sherlock as well. The manager was a tall man, average weight, with a receding hairline, what stood out to John was his groomed brows, eyeliner and jewellery.The doctor figured Gilbert Smithy wouldn’t stand out much here, Sherlock stood up, grumbling with frustration.

“Has there been anyone attending the area?” He asked, frowning. There was no signs of contempt in any of the vanities neighboring Don’s and most everything was fairly tidy.

“Quite frankly, no. We have security at the front and back door but I can’t afford anything else.” The manager answered honestly.

“Security cameras?” Sherlock added, moving to the doorway to look at the room from another angle, then looked towards the ceiling.

“Facing the bar, exits, the stage outwards, above the bathrooms outwards and above the change room outwards. Once again I can’t afford anything else.” The manager shrugged.

Sherlock was becoming visibly annoyed, thinking the manager didn’t do a very good job managing. The relaxed as he figured out the next step.

“Don, what time of day do these letters appear?” Sherlock asked, facing their client and looked for any minute expression.

“Oh, uh. After I do my programme.” Don answered as he recalled the past few weeks.

“And no one is in the change room when any of this happens?” John asked as he figured the performers would be there a while.

“There’s only really five of the staff, they’re either helping with the set or fitting with patrons to buy more drinks.” The manager explained, “Look, you don’t go into running a drag bar purely for the money.” The man defended himself, rather sure that the pair was judging him.

“Yeah, I’d imagine the niche is very small.” John commented, nodding his head.

“I’ll have to do a stake out.” Sherlock announced, John looked at him with a mix of both surprise and confusion.

“So we’re going just hide in the corner until someone comes?” The doctor asked rhetorically with an awkward smile, not realizing Sherlock had excluded him.

“No. I’m going to hide in the corner until someone comes.” Sherlock answered raising his brows, there was a small twitch in his lips as he realized something.

“What am I going to to?”

“What do you mean what are you going to do?”

“I mean what am I going to do while you hide in the corner?”

“Watch telly at home.” Sherlock answered flippantly. Between them, Don felt a little too awkward to interrupt them, unaware of how common this back and forth was.  
“What? No, I want to be involved.” John said back, this was working out to be an interesting case and quite honestly he didn’t want to miss out. Sherlock sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, you’ll be on patrol in the front for anyone suspicious.” 

“I’ve never been here before, I think it’ll bit conspicuous a new guy is snooping around.” John said as he placed his hands on his hips.

“I know. Which is why you’re going to be a new hire.” Sherlock grinned, John’s dipped his head back with a small shake.

“What?” Looking to the other pair in the room, then focused on Don. “No. I’m not doing it.” He said as he crossed his arms, “No offense, Don.” He added, he looked back to Sherlock, raising his brows as well, waiting for his retort. Sherlock looked at the other pair, then wrapped his arm around the doctor, taking him to the side.

“You have to keep an eye out, the best place to start is the stage and you warn me if you see someone going to the change room.”

“Why don’t you be the lookout and I catch the guy?”

“What if he decides to fight?”

“I can take him.”

“I doubt that, but what if he runs?” Sherlock asked, John frowned as he recalled times they had to run.

“Good point.” John conceded, tilting his head slightly, “And why do I have to be on the stage? Why can I just be a patron?” He added, still not convinced, Sherlock turned his head, rolling his eyes.

“Well, if you were doing something you know is unsavory, wouldn’t you notice if someone who you’ve never seen before is eyeballing you?” Sherlock asked with a raised brow.

“What if it’s because I was, you know, into him.” John challenged again, feeling proud he had this many retorts.

“You can do that in drag. We’re going for inconspicuous here, John.” Sherlock reminded, becoming very annoyed with his flatmate. John inhaled rather harshly, looking away with frustration.

“Is this because I accidentally washed the dish your experiment was sitting in?” John pointed his finger at Sherlock’s face, the manager and client practically forgotten.

“Oh for god’s sa-” Sherlock cut himself off and inhaled, “John, you’re wearing the dress.” He practically yelled. They went into a stare down for a moment before the doctor deflated, turning away in defeat.

“Fuck’s sake.” John hissed to himself, rubbing his forehead. He took a second to compose himself, turning to their client, “So, seeing as we’re doing a stakeout and I have to wear a frock, when should we come in?” He asked, trying to put the little tiff he just had behind him. Don took a second to reel back from that spectacle.

“Uh, I want to doubt you’ve dressed in drag before.”

“Yes.”

“So How about 7? Things don’t pick up until 9ish and I think it’ll give you enough time to get ready.” Don explained, pulling out his phone, “I’ll send you a link with all the products you’ll need.” He offered, John pulled out his phone then paused.

“Can I just borrow your products?”

“Ew, no.” Don said quickly then cleared his throat, “Sorry. It’s unhygienic to share products-”

“Nice one, Doctor.” Sherlock interjected, pulling out his own phone to contact an acquaintance.

“Plus a bunch of other things like colour matching, skin type and so on.” Don said as he texted John a link to a site for beginners. Sherlock looked over John’s shoulder.

“Right, we’ll see you at 7 then, if anything happens before then, call us.” Sherlock said then nodded to his flatmate, “Come along, John.” He said before they left the bar.

“Where are we going?” John asked as Sherlock waved a cab over.

“Cosmetic store.” Sherlock answered as a car swerved in a moment later.

“What? Can’t we get this stuff online or something?” John whined out, side eyeing the cab driver, already feeling embarrassed.

“We don’t have enough time. Besides, just like Don said; we need to consider making sure everything matches. I know a girl.” Sherlock answered, trying not to grin at John’s discomfort.

“Of course you do.” John said stiffly, looking out the window, grabbing his+ his knees rather harshly.

It was a very long hour and half at the cosmetic store with a makeup artist Sherlock knew. They sorted skin tones, various cream and powder products based on the site Don had passed on to them and hashing out colour combinations. Unfortunately for John there wasn’t a mask option. The doctor sighed with exasperation as he entered the flat, carrying two shopping bags full of makeup, taking off his coat and went to flop in his chair.

“John, go and cook some dinner for yourself.” Sherlock said as he got off his coat and undid his suit button.

“Are you eating?” John asked as he stood back up.

“No. I’ll be doing research.” He said as he opened his laptop. John frowned for a moment, looking at the screen.

“You’re doing my makeup?” The doctor asked, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Well, have you been secretly dabbling in drag makeup?” The detective asked in return, looking back at John.

“Good point.” John conceded, going to the kitchen. Sherlock popped on some earphones and started on his video journey.

\-----

The pair returned to the bar, John walked rather stiffly as he carried the makeup, trying not looking around as if he expected to see someone he knew. Don met him at the door and brought them to the change room.

“Everyone, this is the Sherlock Holmes and Dr.John Watson.” Don introduced, there were four other people in the room in various states of dress. A rather chubby man in a silk robe came up to the pair to shake their hand.

“Mr. Holmes, I'm a big fan. Dr. Watson, I read your blog almost religiously.” She fluttered about between them, John licked his lips nervously. “I’m Charlotte, Charlotte Swebb.” She introduced, the doctor choked back a laugh while Sherlock looked away.

“Pleasure to meet you, really.” John smiled then looked at Sherlock who merely nodded his head at Charlotte, “Well, I'm sure you all are aware of Don’s problem so we’ll do our best to put this to rest.” John announced, Don brought them to a vanity to work in. John set the bag on the table then sat down in front of the mirror and cleared his throat, looking at the bag with some anxiety.

“We don't share makeup here, but I've got a few things you can borrow.” Don announced, handed John a pair of spanx and waist trainer, John held them, dread creeping up on him, “Tiffany agreed to lend you a frock seeing as you two look about the same size.” Don said before going to his own table.

“What is this?” The doctor asked, holding up the waist trainer with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

“A waist trainer, wear it over your spanx, it’ll attempt to give you a waistline.” Sherlock said flatly as placed all the items out of the bag, though in truth he was having a hard time trying not to grin. 

“Why can’t I just wear a dress and call it a night, honestly.” John whined as he got up, going behind a screen near the corner to change. Sherlock got the products sorted, took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. It was a few minutes and some grunts before John stepped out, his hand over his crotch, “God.” He hissed out. Sherlock turned around and closed his eyes, lips twitching before looking away again and took a deep breath.

“Oh sweetie.” John headed before another employee came over and pulled his hand away, it was someone about his size and height. “You need to tuck in!.” She said as he used one hand to pull open the spanx through the leg and snaked his other hand inside. John yelped out as his bits were rearranged, doing everything in his power not to shove the other person away.

“Excuse me!” John hissed out, his hand going back to his groin, only find a very different sensation, looking down and opened his palms.

“Not bad. Too bad you're not my type.” She said as she stood there, “I'm Tiffany.”

“John.” He said in return, turning his body away slightly.

“Charmed. I suppose you don't do this very often, dress in drag.” Tiffany teased, “Here we tuck in.” She said before going to her own vanity. John went to go sit down as well, clearing his throat again. Sherlock decided not to waste any time, starting with pulling out the glue and help it up to John’s face, who pulled back with confusion.

“What are you doing with glue?” He asked, more accusingly than anything.

“It's common in drag culture to glue down their eyebrows to make their eye makeup more exaggerated.” Sherlock answered, expression unchanging. John closed his eyes for a moment then leaned forward in resignation. “Your eyebrows are so fair you could hardly tell how bushy they are.” Sherlock complained as he worked.

“Excuse me, caterpillar face, my eyebrows are perfect.” John said in return, smiling as he kept his eyes closed. A small giggled burst between them, then Sherlock kept working. The drag queens worked around them, chatting amongst themselves, as much as any of them would love to ask questions or flirt, they were all on a time crunch as well, focusing on their own makeup.

At this point, Sherlock had placed primer, foundation and concealer on John’s face and worked on the man’s eyeshadow. Despite the situation that he was left in, John felt warm and fluttery with so much attention on him and he'll never admit, there was something relaxing about Sherlock touching his face. His eyes were closed most of the time, but he could feel the detective’s intense stare, Sherlock was very much at work, John was under intense scrutiny and he didn't mind as much as most people would.

“Would you think you've gone too far to turn back?” Sherlock asked, brushing eyeshadow over the other man’s eyes while he held John’s head steady, the elder man hummed in thought.

“A little bit, yeah.” John admitted, knowing full well his genitals were tucked in, as they said, waist was cinched like he'd never experienced and he was sure he had at least four layers of makeup and knowing they weren't done.

“I was still a little bit mad at you for ruining my experiment.” Sherlock admitted with a smirk, pulling the brush away. John inhaled deeply, looking at him with a glare.

“You fucking arsehole.” He hissed out, moving to stand up. Tiffany turned around, ready to break it up before Don held her shoulder. All through the day Sherlock was struggling to keep a straight face, but his hand felt weak holding the makeup brush, his head turned away as he laughed. John was ready to stomp off until he heard Sherlock’s laughter, sighing as he turned his head away. “Fuck me.” He hissed out, flopping back down, he almost touched his face but remembered all the makeup that was on. Sherlock had to compose himself, taking a deep breath.

“John, let me just say; you make for a very pretty drag queen.” He teased, John glared once more, side eyeing the rest of the group.

“Fuck off.” He said in return, closing his eyes and tried to get comfortable. By the time Sherlock had finished the eyes, the employees, including Don were dressed.

“So, what’s your drag name?” Don asked, pulling up a chair.

“Drag name?” John asked, his voice practically drooping, having lost himself in the sensation of his face being touched again.

“Yes. Mine is Stevia.” She announced, fluffing up her wig.

“The sugar substitute?” John asked with a confused smile.

“Exactly.” She agreed, grinning. John hummed in thought

“What about Rosemund?” Sherlock suggested, working on John’s blush.

“No. No offence, but I would rather not think about this,” John said, waving his hand at himself, “Every time I say my daughter’s name.”

“You have a daughter?” Stevia asked, confused, looking between the two, “Did you two adopt?” She frowned, Sherlock snorted, figuring that was possibly the most innocent of assumptions, John inhaled deeply.

“No, I am not gay. My late wife gave birth to my baby.” He said straightforwardly.

“I’m so sorry,” Stevia said with guilt.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.” John said evenly, smiling weakly.

“So. Name.” Sherlock change the subject instead.

“Evangeline.” John thought up quickly, “Feminine enough.”

“Shut up, Evangeline, I've got to work on your lips.” Sherlock said as he got out the lip liner. John puckered his lips playfully before smiling. “Your lips are impossibly small.” Sherlock complained as he exaggerated the lines.

“Perfect reason as to why you should have been the one in drag.” John replied quickly. Sherlock made a noncommittal noise as he applied the lipstick, then pulled back, grabbing John by the jaw and turned his head from side to side.

“Well, you certainly look like a man in drag, decent disguise.” He said as he stood up to stretch. Stevia came over, handing John a wig cap and helped him into the hair piece.

“Beautiful, for a beginner at least.” She said as John stood up, helping him into the dress and heels.

“Oh god.” John hissed out, seeing himself in the full body mirror for the first time, putting his hands on his chest and stomach.

His makeup was very much drag makeup; eyeshadow was a harsh black and white, eyebrows dark and high and his lips were a rather neutral pink, but the lines were much larger than his own. The wig was a blonde bob, neatly framing his face and the long sleeve, black, glittery dress clung to his body. Despite the fact the fact that his chest had no padding, his waist was cinched just enough to create a fine curve and of course the tuck Tiffany had imposed on him had him feeling like his body was no longer his. He was like a different person in the strangest way. Of course John had no prejudices towards people who dressed in drag, but this was certainly not him. Sherlock appeared behind him, observing as well. Seeing Sherlock’s gaze in the relefection made John even more aware of his figure, making him clear his throat.

“Come along, sweety.” Sherlock teased, patting John’s lower back before John followed Stevia out of the dressing room and into the bar. The doctor felt even more exposed and a tad bit judged, while they walked he slowly shuffled to be behind Stevia, trying to hide as he was lead to the bar.

“Evangeline, this is the bartender. Gilly, this is Evangeline, the new girl.” Stevia introduced, giving the bartender a wink, which was rather obvious with her false lashes, John and Gilly shared a nod.

“I’d kill for a pint right about now.” He announced, looking to Stevia.

“Yes, no problem, it’s on me.” Stevia said as they sat down, watching as Tiffany went to greet a patron. Gilly served John the pint then went to tend to another patron, Stevia waited rather strategically until John has at least two sips before clearing her throat. “So, I know you’re just under cover, but we have a tradition of debuting our new drag queens.” She announced. John licked his lips as he closed his eyes.

“And you want me to sing?” He asked, giving his client a rather stressed smile, eyes fluttering.

“Lip syncing.”

“Lip syncing. Right.” John repeated, almost touching his cheek but remembered how much makeup was on his face. “I’m not really a drag queen.” He tried to defend.

“Technically you are.” Stevia replied with a strained smile, “I know this isn’t your thing and I wouldn’t ask you, but everyone will be asking about you if you don’t.” She reasoned, knowing full well the doctor was uncomfortable.

“And it’ll draw attention to me.” John nodded weakly, “Fuck me.” He hissed, turning to chug down his beer. He waved over Gilly for a refill, once he was served, he turned to Stevia, “So, is there like a roster I have to follow, or…?” 

“We have a list you can choose from.” Stevia answered, getting up and went to the stage. John watched or a moment before taking another sip, he was glad he looked different enough he doubted anyone would recognize him, but the fact was that he was in full drag.

“Fuck me.” John mumbled to himself, gulping more. Stevia came back with a tablet that had a master list of songs the bar carried. John set his pint aside, taking the tablet and started scrolling, only to become overwhelmed by the list.

“You don’t have to be good, just entertaining enough to, you know, blend in.” Stevia tried to assure. John shook his head, shoving the tablet back at her.

“I honestly can’t decide.” He admitted, taking his pint again.

“Well, name a song, maybe we have it.” Stevia suggested, taking the tablet and chose the search function. John was half way through his pint, looking at the bottles behind the bar as he began to think.

“I know him so well.” He decided, looking to Stevia, who began typing.

“I’ve never heard of that song… but we have it.” She answered. Charlotte came in from behind.

“Sweetie, that’s a duet.” She frowned, looking o John. The doctor shook his head.

“I’m sorry but that’s basically the only one I know from beginning to end.” 

“If that’s the case, I can sing it with you.” Charlotte offered, waving Gilly over for a drink as well.

“Fine. Let’s.” John agreed, looking at his pint and decided to cut himself off as two, figuring he’d be pushing it after that, especially seeing as they were on a case.

\-----

About an hour went by, John had done some careless things like rubbing his cheek or trying to scratch his brow before Charlotte had smacked his hand away. The bar gradually filled with patrons, the drag queens took turns going on stage to entertain and chatting with the regulars. John broke his own limit and went for a third drink, watching them perform to get the jist, feeling overwhelmed and would jump at the opportunity to back out. There was a patron trying to strike up a conversation with John, he was on the verge of just getting up to leave, Charlotte saved him by tapping him on the shoulder and lead him backstage. Tiffany went on stage and tapped a wine glass with a spoon.

“Good evening, everyone. Tonight we have a very special programme, performing along with our Charlotte Swebb is our newest member. Introducing Evangeline, with the song “I knew him so well.”” Tiffany presented, waving the pair onto stage.

The music started, Charlotte practically gilded onto stage, taking the role of Elaine Paige, John took Barbara Dickson, waited for his cue, well, mainly waited for Sherlock to give him a signal that they perpetrator had appeared, but partly for his cue. He took a deep breath and stepped onto stage, walking partly behind Charlotte to echo her lines with his own, stepping a few to the side as he lip synced to the song. Then Charlotte moved to do the same as John’s lines came up.

“- No one in your life is with you constantly  
No one is completely on your side  
And though I move my world to be with him  
Still the gap between us is too wide  
Looking back, I could have played it differently  
Learned about the man before I fell  
But I was ever so much younger then  
Now at least I know, I know him well”

Each of them did their own choreograph as they lip synced to the song, as there was absolutely no rehearsal, but Charlotte tried her best to mirror John’s movements. All eyes were on the sloppy but oddly endearing show and unbeknownst to John, Tiffany was filming the whole performance with a steady hand. When they finished, the pair was met with polite, half-hearted clapping. Charlotte did a little curtsey, John saw it at the corner of his eye and instinctively bowed as well, which was met with some laughter from the patrons. 

\-----

Just as the song ended and the audience clapped, Sherlock was hidden behind the change screen when he heard movement, giving the person a few moments to step away from the exit. The detective carefully peeked through the crack and saw the perpetrator hovering over Stevia’s vanity and lept into action, tackling the man from behind, moving as quickly as possible to pin him down.

“Get off me! GET OFF ME!” The perp yelled, kicking his feet, as he was unable to move, no thanks to Sherlock’s weight on his abdomen. Sherlock pulled out his cellphone, dialing quickly, which caused the man to struggle more.

“Lestrade.” Sherlock hissed, looking at the door for a moment, “Yes.” He said simply before hanging up.

John was back at the bar, trying his best to just nurse the rest of his beer while Stevia chatted with him.

“Now, I know you’ve said you’re not gay, but why do you know such a soppy song about a man?” She asked, grinning, thinking she had him. John groaned as he closed his eyes, hoping no one would’ve asked him.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“When I was in high school I was not taking a break up very well and.” John said, sipping his beer, gathering his courage, “And I’d listen to that song, hoping my ex-girlfriend was listening to it and thought of me.” He admitted. Charlotte was sitting next to him and began laughing, reaching over and repeatedly slapped his shoulder, unable to contain herself. John had to laugh at his own embarrassment, this was a long time ago, but it never failed to set a stone in his stomach. All of that was thrown out the window as Greg practically flew into the bar, going to the bartender.

“Where is the change room?” He demanded, flashing his badge. Tiffany jumped up, shuffling frantically to the dressing room.

“This way!” She cried out, opening the door, Greg followed behind, finding Sherlock on top of the offender, the detective got up, stepping away for the other man to handle things. Another officer appeared, Greg handing the offender over to be cuffed and read his rights, Stevia came into the doorway, looking rather frantic. She realized who the man was.

“Brandon?” She croaked out, stepping aside and almost collapsed with disbelief, Charlotte came in behind and held her by the back.

“Excuse me, who?” Greg asked, pulling out his notepad, Sherlock tapped his elbow and motioned.

“This is the victim.” He announced, stepping aside for things to be dealt with. Stevia had to sit down.

“My younger brother.” She answered, shaking her head. Greg paused, confused.

“I thought you told your family, sweetie?” Tiffany asked, placing her hand on Stevia’s shoulder.

“I only told them I was gay, they told me they knew for years and were okay with it. I never told anyone besides my immediate friends I was a drag queen.” Stevia explained. Sherlock left the change room for now, figuring Lestrade could at least handle that. 

At the bar, John was awkwardly making small talk with a patron, who obviously came to chat with him, Sherlock could see his flatmate was rather uncomfortable and came in, grinning.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Sherlock said as he stepped in, placing his hand on John’s waist, who jumped from the sudden touch, the detective looking to the patron, “Came to see my boyfriend’s first show.” He nodded along. John wanted to give him a little elbowing, but it wasn’t like he knew how to turn the guy down and nodded. Turned off, the patron left the pair, Sherlock’s hand went to John’s pint pushing it away.

“Thank you for that.” John sighed, “I guess everything is said and done?” He asked, looking towards the change room.

“Lucky for you, yes.” Sherlock said as he checked his phone for a second, “The harasser was Stevia’s younger brother. Best guess is that he found out about her lifestyle and didn’t take to it. Followed him here and started leaving those letters.” Sherlock explained, John nodded, a little disappointed he didn’t have a notepad to jot this down.

Greg walked by, stopping in front of the pair, unaware that the person in full drag, sitting next to Sherlock was John, then motioned for Sherlock to take a step aside. John got up to listen as well, before Greg looking frowned.

“I’m sorry, miss, this information is confidential.” He said drily, which caused Sherlock to turn his head with laughter. John pursed his lips tightly, unable to bring himself to say a single word, but unable to step aside and at least pretend he wasn’t involved.

“It’s okay, Lestrade, she’s with me.” Sherlock assured, ready to give his flatmate a little elbowing. Greg narrowed his eyes at the person, not holding back on giving her the once over before freezing.

“John?” The Detective Inspector asked, almost afraid. John looked over his shoulder, paranoid and nervous.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. There was a shrill sound that came from Greg for a second, holding his breath for a second, but couldn’t hold it in, breaking into a belly laugh, having to turn away to hold himself. Sherlock watched, grinning as Lestrade laughed more than he ever seen. John on the other hand was tapping his toes with frustration, “Come on, laugh it up.” He hissed out, pushing at Greg’s shoulder, who tried his best to gather himself.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked out before taking a deep breath and held it, “Sorry.” Greg repeated, rubbing his neck, a giggle escaping him. The Detective Inspector cleared his throat rather roughly, “Alright, onto business. The older brother doesn't want to press charges.”

“What?” John half yelled, then looked around again.

“Yeah, Sherlock might have caught him in the act, but he is the victim. Despite all that, Gibbins didn’t want to give him a criminal record.”

“So basically.” John brought his hand to finally touch his face, rubbing the side of his nose, “I went through all of this for nothing?” He asked accusingly.

“Basically.” Greg repeated, smiling then went to whip out his phone. “Let me get one picture before you clean up.” He said before snapping the photo anyways, catching the doctor in a rather surprised expression.

“God.” John hissed, now too exhausted to fight it. “Well, you better treasure it.” He said before yanking off the wig, behind him there was a gasp.

“Evangeline!” Charlotte scolded, taking the wig, “We don’t do that in front of the patrons.” She warned, trying to put the wig back on. John stepped back, blocking his head.

“No offence, but I think I’m quite done playing dress up.” John spoke, looking Charlotte in the eye, “Thank you for your kindness, but this isn’t for me, personally.” He said, easing up, Charlotte pouted before giving in. John walked away from the trio, heading to the change room, Greg found himself watching him go, then snorted.

“Not bad.” He said to Sherlock, who rolled his eyes. 

Back in the change room, the first thing John did was take off the false lashes and wipe off the makeup, being sure to get every bit. Stevia pulled up a seat next to him.

“Thank you, Dr. Watson, I know my brother was caught thanks to Mr. Holmes, but I know you made the bigger sacrifice.” She said as she looked John through the mirror.

“Hmph.” John said before sitting up, looking at her, “I honestly don’t know why I went through this, Sherlock could have done this by himself.” He admitted with a weak smile.

“Oh no, Dr. Watson, having you around me through the night, here at the bar, has made me feel safer that I have felt in weeks. I promise.” Stevia said as she reached over, taking the doctor’s hand. John took a deep breath, easily defeated.

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome. I’m glad we were able to put you at ease.” John replied, squeezing her hand. Sherlock stepped in and cleared his throat, Stevia stood up, walking up to him.

“Thank you Mr. Holmes, the cheque will be in the mail.” She said, smiling before leaving. 

John wiped his face once more, now focused on his brows, worried his eye brows would be taken along with the glue, he paused to look at Sherlock in the mirror for a moment.

“You knew I wasn't’ t really needed here.” John stated, returning his attention to his brows, Sherlock sat where their client just left, popping his lips.

“Kinda, yeah.” He said with a weak smile, “Yeeah.” Sherlock admitted and chuckled. John let out a growl of exasperation.

“Bastard.” 

“Witch.”

“Arsehole. You did my makeup.” John shot back, smiling. He figured he wasn’t getting all the glue here at the bar and decided to get changed. Standing up, his hand went behind his back, trying to reach the zipper and let out a deep sigh. “Zipper.” He stated simply, remembering he was helped into the dress earlier. Sherlock stood up, stepping behind him, unzipping the dress. Goosebumps prickled along John’s shoulders and back at the intimacy of the situation. He could see Sherlock looking at his back through the reflection of the vanity and tried his best not to fidget, once the zipper rested on his lower back, the doctor practically ran for the change screen.

“By the way, Lestrade checked out your arse while you stomped away from us.” Sherlock mentioned smugly. John kicked the dress off before hanging it up, his hands went to his waist, which had gotten used to the trainer.

“Fuck off.” John said, grinning with disbelief.

“He said ‘not bad’.” Sherlock said idly. John stepped out, two moments later, the spanx and waist trainer draped along with the dress, the doctor wearing his own clothing.

“Well, I guess I have ammunition in case he brings up the picture he jumped on me.” John said, feeling more himself.

The pair went for the exit, ready to leave accomplished before Tiffany and company hopped off from the bar stools, coming in to hug John.

“You looked marvellous, come again if you want me to do your makeup next. You’ll look stunning, sweetie.” Tiffany promised, John hugged her awkwardly in return.

“Come again for another show, I had a blast.” Charlotte said as she hugged her as well, he moved on to Stevia, who hugged him tightly.

“Thank you again, Evangeline!” She said playfully, “Come again, just for a drink, on me.” She offered. John cleared his throat, smiling broadly, hugging her in return.

“I’ll think about it.” He said simply, waving weakly to the group before leaving.

After Sherlock waved ver a cab and a long ride home, John had a warm cloth to his brow, looking up ways to thoroughly remove glue, Sherlock was in his chair, checking his phone. A familiar tune began playing, the twang was off, but John knew instantly it was the song he lip synced to earlier this evening.

“What is that?” He asked accusingly, Sherlock exited from the video Tiffany recorded and sent him via Twitter and slid his phone into his chest pocket.

“Nothing… Evangeline.”


End file.
